On The Edge
Shut Away
Gerard's POV
I sat on the center of my bed in the gloomy room. I hugged a bottle of Jack Daniels, half empty, to my chest. I cast my eyes over my stuff - bat paperweights and Iron Maiden CD's, and my drawing tools.
I thought about Frank's new tattoo. Matt, Ray, Mikey and I had all chipped in so he could get it done. He was sure, so fucking positive, that this band would work. But what if it didn't? It would probably be my fault; I was the weakest, after all. I wanted to make a change, but what if the only change we made was release a shitty album that went under the New Jersey radar, let alone the rest of the world's?
I took a long swig of Jack.
It wasn't enough. I couldn't distract myself. Fuck! I chugged the rest of the whiskey down, swallowed the rising vomit in my throat, smashing the bottle on the frame of my bed. I dissolved into angry tears, sat on the floor now, to avoid the glass. My knees were drawn up to my chest as I broke down into huge sobs, that threatened to break me at each breath. I barely heard the knock at the door, the words he said. The newly tattooed Frank saw me, and we looked at each other for a long moment, both paused.
Frank's POV
'Gee?' I said quietly, breaking the silence. Not comforting silence, like our walk a couple of days ago, but awful, drawn out silence, that only ended in something awful.
I sit myself down next to him, and put my arm around him.
'Shhh, Gee. C'mon. Shhh.' I felt his sobs lessen at my touch and at the soothing sounds I made.
'The bodies' He slurred. I smelt the alcohol on his breath. A gleam of broken glass caught my eye. Oh, bollocks.
'Yes Gee, I know, I know.' I tried to comfort him, as best I could. He was drunker than I'd ever seen him.
'They jumped. They fell and I saw! I couldn't do a fuckin' thing about it Frank. Look at me. Gerard the failure. Gerard the skinny reject.' I felt his bones through his hoodie, and I tried to recall seeing him consume something other than booze. I couldn't.
'My best fucking friend threw himself in front of a train. He was 15.' The sobs were slowing down, but the speed at which he talked increased.
'What do I fuckin matter? I don't. You hate me, secretly. I know you do! Ray does, Matt does, Mikey does. I FUCKING HATE MYSELF! YOU HATE ME!' He screamed, then threw his arms around my neck and cried on my shoulder.
'No, I don't hate you..' He muttered something I didn't quite catch, but I knew he didn't believe me.
I stayed with him that night, on the floor of his messy bedroom. He'd passed out on me, but I didn't mind. I wanted to keep him safe.
I sat on the center of my bed in the gloomy room. I hugged a bottle of Jack Daniels, half empty, to my chest. I cast my eyes over my stuff - bat paperweights and Iron Maiden CD's, and my drawing tools.
I thought about Frank's new tattoo. Matt, Ray, Mikey and I had all chipped in so he could get it done. He was sure, so fucking positive, that this band would work. But what if it didn't? It would probably be my fault; I was the weakest, after all. I wanted to make a change, but what if the only change we made was release a shitty album that went under the New Jersey radar, let alone the rest of the world's?
I took a long swig of Jack.
It wasn't enough. I couldn't distract myself. Fuck! I chugged the rest of the whiskey down, swallowed the rising vomit in my throat, smashing the bottle on the frame of my bed. I dissolved into angry tears, sat on the floor now, to avoid the glass. My knees were drawn up to my chest as I broke down into huge sobs, that threatened to break me at each breath. I barely heard the knock at the door, the words he said. The newly tattooed Frank saw me, and we looked at each other for a long moment, both paused.
Frank's POV
'Gee?' I said quietly, breaking the silence. Not comforting silence, like our walk a couple of days ago, but awful, drawn out silence, that only ended in something awful.
I sit myself down next to him, and put my arm around him.
'Shhh, Gee. C'mon. Shhh.' I felt his sobs lessen at my touch and at the soothing sounds I made.
'The bodies' He slurred. I smelt the alcohol on his breath. A gleam of broken glass caught my eye. Oh, bollocks.
'Yes Gee, I know, I know.' I tried to comfort him, as best I could. He was drunker than I'd ever seen him.
'They jumped. They fell and I saw! I couldn't do a fuckin' thing about it Frank. Look at me. Gerard the failure. Gerard the skinny reject.' I felt his bones through his hoodie, and I tried to recall seeing him consume something other than booze. I couldn't.
'My best fucking friend threw himself in front of a train. He was 15.' The sobs were slowing down, but the speed at which he talked increased.
'What do I fuckin matter? I don't. You hate me, secretly. I know you do! Ray does, Matt does, Mikey does. I FUCKING HATE MYSELF! YOU HATE ME!' He screamed, then threw his arms around my neck and cried on my shoulder.
'No, I don't hate you..' He muttered something I didn't quite catch, but I knew he didn't believe me.
I stayed with him that night, on the floor of his messy bedroom. He'd passed out on me, but I didn't mind. I wanted to keep him safe.
Notes
Hiya,
This chapter has the sole purpose of letting you, the reader, and Frank know why Gerard hasn't quite been himself.
Thanks for the feedback, keep it coming.
Oh and if it feels like it's moving too fast, give me a shout.
Em xo
@teapartypoison
Sounds reasonable.
1/4/14